


Hurricane

by Amikotsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anxiety, Day 4, Depression, KakaObi Week 2019, Love, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexy Times, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: “Obito, you’re going to be late.”“Let them wait.”Obito gets a mission to return to the front lines, so he spends what little time he has left with one Hatake Kakashi. Well, Obito has never been good with saying goodbye.





	1. 21 Hours to Departure

Another trip to the northeastern front. The mission scroll in his left hand felt like a weight, dragging him down, down, down. He’d had one month on, one month off, since the beginning of the war, but that had changed the moment the Sandaime Hokage handed over that heavy scroll. There was no lengthy explanation, no apology for the break in his routine, just words on paper, just another grim expression. Obito didn’t remember navigating his way through the busy streets. One minute, he’d been at the tower; the next minute, he was standing outside his apartment, left hand fishing in his pocket for his house key. He didn’t want to go back to the front, but no sane shinobi wanted to see more and more of the same. War devoured a man, hollowing him out, until nothing remained. He didn’t know why he chose to go home. He thought about visiting the memorial stone, picking out Rin’s name, and praying for her to watch over him all over again; he thought about visiting a bar, downing sake until he could no longer make sense of _up_ or _down_ , until the scroll no longer mattered. He had less than twenty-four hours left, and then he’d lose himself. He’d walk right back onto the battlefield he’d left behind only fifteen days ago, and he’d try his best to survive. He’d become jaded, a washed-out version of his former self, and he hated it. He didn’t know how anyone could stand to be around him, with his anger issues and his lingering depression. He’d long ago said goodbye to his dream of being Hokage, just another part in the war machine.

Obito leaned forward, his forehead touching the door to his apartment, and tried to stop his shoulders from shaking. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t hide behind the rush of adrenaline and the organized chaos. He couldn’t stand watching children maim one another. That had been him, at one point. He’d been a young kid playing a grown-up’s game. For the village. Long live Konoha. He didn’t even know why he bothered. On the battlefield, fighting for his life, he’d considered desertion. He’d never thought that would be him, that he’d be the type to surrender and turn tail, abandoning everyone and everything he once held dear. The thought had been fleeting, but just its existence had torn him apart. When he shoved the key into the lock, he had to jiggle the handle to get it to open. The lock liked to stick. He’d told Kakashi to look at it, but that had been two months ago. Neither of them could afford to waste time on it. If someone was stupid enough to break into their apartment, then the person deserved everything inside, from the television to the new bedding. The door swung inward and Obito took careful steps inside. He left his sandals in the _genkan_ and trudged into the kitchen, where he collapsed at the kitchen table.

He wasn’t alone. He heard the shower running. Without much thought, he dropped the scroll onto the table and got back to his feet. He grabbed the bottom hem of his dark-blue shirt and dragged it up over his stomach. As he walked toward the bathroom, he shed his shirt, his pants, his mesh, his briefs. He knocked once on the bathroom door and entered into the steamy room. The shower curtain moved back and Obito stepped inside. Warm water hit his entire left side, running along his cool skin to circle the drain. He’d already showered, but he didn’t want to be alone. He’d decided that before he even left the kitchen. He couldn’t take being alone; he couldn’t take those poisonous thoughts tearing him apart. He was fragile, and he hated it. His younger self would have scoffed at him. He didn’t need someone holding his hand; he didn’t need someone coddling him. Until he did. 

“What did he want?” Kakashi had moved back to allow Obito room to enjoy the shower, before he inevitably stole the spot for himself. Obito was quiet, unsure, but he wasn’t going to pretend that nothing had happened. Kakashi wasn’t a fool. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow, oh-five-hundred,” Obito sighed. He allowed Kakashi to massage soap into his scalp, allowed them both a moment to relax. As if in anticipation of his departure, his left eye socket ached, longing for an eye he’d lost years before, the eye that Kakashi had received. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”

“Hm,” Kakashi hummed, motions ceasing. Obito felt arms loop around him, and his back was pressed against Kakashi’s chest. Water from the showerhead rained down on them. Soap from his hair got into his right eye and stung, but he didn’t move. He closed his eye and let Kakashi hold him. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Ten weeks.” Obito felt lips press to the back of his neck, then to his right shoulder. They only revealed themselves in bits and pieces, mostly hidden away in their apartment. Kakashi hadn’t come out yet, but everyone knew. And Obito? Well, no one even asked. He’d changed a lot. Gone was the boy obsessed with the idea of Rin. He’d been hellbent on finding love, on obtaining love, and he hadn’t really known anything about anything. “I should be back by the end of March. You won’t be here.”

“This will end, Obito,” Kakashi promised.

How many times had he heard those words? They seemed more like lies. The war had ignited after Kumogakure attempted to kidnap a clan heir. The Hokage had signed over a man’s life to maintain peace, but that hadn’t been enough. Kumogakure had declared war two weeks later. The start of the war had been two years ago though, and there was no end in sight, not with the rumors that Iwagakure had ceased fighting with Kusagakure and Sunagakure and intended to wage war against Konoha. War started softly and grew to a roar. Kakashi spent more time on the front lines, stays extended so many times that Obito lost count, so Obito felt guilty for every doubt that crossed his mind. Kakashi had it worse; therefore, Obito had no right to fall apart. And yet, there he was, mind and body stitched back together so many times that he was more thread than human.

“Come on,” Kakashi finally said. The soap had long ago been washed from their bodies, from Obito’s hair, and the water had turned cold. Kakashi reached around Obito and shut off the shower, then he pushed the curtain back. Obito grabbed his forearm and pulled him back, crushing their lips together for a painful kiss. Their teeth clicked, but that didn’t matter. Obito pressed on, tongue exploring, lips tingling. He moved a hand between them, fingers trailing up Kakashi’s right thigh, on to a destination, on an unspoken mission. Kakashi pulled back and put a hand on Obito’s chest. “No.”

“What? Why not?” Obito’s tone was sharp, a little too harsh, but he didn’t care. He reached out to touch Kakashi and the man just took his hand and tugged him out of the shower. They didn’t need to linger there, not without the warm water, so he let Kakashi lead him to the towel rack. They both dried themselves off, and Kakashi tied a towel around his waist. “If this doesn’t lead to sex, I might punch you.”

“Maa, stop being dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic!” Obito threw his towel at Kakashi and waltzed out of the bathroom. He turned to the left and headed back toward their bedroom. Kakashi must have taken time to put the towel back on the rack, because the man took longer to reach the bedroom. “I thought we could, you know,” Obito continued his train of thought, ending with a general hand motion.

“Fuck?” Kakashi asked, one brow arched. “You do this every time something goes wrong.”

“Do what?” Obito crossed the room to the closet and slid open the door. Kakashi sighed, and that irritated him. “If you aren’t in the mood, just man up and say so. Don’t try to get psychological with me.”

“Every time something goes wrong,” Kakashi continued, unperturbed, “you hide behind sex.”

“So? You do it too. It’s how we get along so well.”

“Fine. Forget about the clothes then. Come here.”

“No. You ruined the moment.”

“There wasn’t a moment, Obito.” Kakashi moved to stand behind him, but he nudged his elbow into Kakashi’s ribs. He didn’t need Kakashi messing with his head. There had been a moment. They’d been in the midst of a moment, right? He quickly recalled the sloppy kiss they’d shared and he doubted, but he couldn’t let Kakashi know that.

“Yes, there was! I was trying to be,” Obito paused, struggling with adjectives, “sexy!”

“Really? By attacking me?” Kakashi snorted, and Obito felt his temper flare. He rounded on Kakashi and poked the man’s chest. Kakashi looked down at the offending finger and swatted it away.

“I wasn’t attacking you! Who’s being dramatic now, asshole?”

“Name calling. Real mature.”

“Yes, name calling, and it’s true. You’re being an asshole!”

“You’re angry about your assignment and you’re trying to hide behind sex. I said no, so I’m an asshole now. Does that sum things up?” Kakashi moved around Obito and grabbed a pair of pants from his side of the closet. He didn’t care that Obito threw both hands in the air, didn’t care that the man looked ready to shove him away.

“No!” Obito didn’t sound very convincing, but he certainly wasn’t trying to convince himself. No, of course not. Damn, he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, but he was already knee-deep in irritation and misplaced anger. He couldn’t just stop; he couldn’t just turn around and go back. Kakashi was right, and he hated when Kakashi was right, because that generally meant he was wrong.

“What am I missing then, Obito, because I could use some clarification,” Kakashi said, already bored of their verbal spat. They had less than twenty-four hours together, and he really didn’t want to waste anymore time going back and forth.

“Forget it! You win!”

“This isn’t about winning or losing. Every argument isn’t a game.”

“You enjoy making me feel stupid, don’t you? Fine, mister prodigy.” Obito snagged another blue shirt, the wide collar and the red-and-white fan a signature of his clan. Realizing he forgot his mesh shirt, he reached up on one of the shelves and grabbed a mesh shirt from the stack. He turned to get away, but then he realized he’d forgotten his briefs and his pants.

“That has nothing to do with anything.” Kakashi sounded irritated then. Without his mask, Kakashi clearly frowned, brows drawn together. Obito turned his head away and focused on getting dressed. Kakashi did the same.

“Doesn’t it? Since we were kids, you’ve had an attitude problem! Take the stick out of your ass!”

“Then why are you with me?”

“E-excuse me?” Obito froze, his head whipping around so he could see the blank expression on Kakashi’s face. How had they gone from sex to Obito’s long-held insecurities? Right, he’d taken the conversation there. He’d led them down the path of no return. He always fucked up. He was a fuck up.

“If I make you feel stupid, and you think I have an attitude problem, why are you with me?” Kakashi was partially dressed, the last remaining article of clothing being his shirt, whereas Obito was fully dressed. Obito stared at Kakashi, trying to get a feel for the man’s angle. There was a right way to answer the question, and there was a wrong way to answer the question. They’d had plenty of arguments, all of them due to Obito’s hot temper. The question should have been turned on him. Why was Kakashi with him?

“Why are you with me?” Obito shifted on his feet, eyes darting around the room in an attempt to avoid Kakashi’s visible eye. With the mask in place, one eye hidden, Kakashi was harder to read. He loved the man; he loved Kakashi so much that it hurt. Just the _thought_ of Kakashi _not_ being there made Obito uncomfortable. They’d been together for six months, and neither of them had said those words though. Maybe Kakashi thought it was too soon; maybe Kakashi wasn’t there yet. But Obito was there. “Look, you’re right, okay? You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Kakashi answered, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Asshole,” Obito said, gritting his teeth. “I’m with you because I like being with you! You’re not terrible.”

“That’s your reason for being with me? I’m ‘not terrible’?”

“Ugh!”

“No, keep going.” Kakashi looked amused then, and Obito threw his hands in the air once more. He was done. He wanted to strangle Kakashi. He wanted to close the distance between them, wrap his hands around Kakashi’s neck, and squeeze. 

“I _love_ you!”

Obito shouted the words, even though he didn’t have to, even though he didn’t mean to. Kakashi’s visible eye widened and Obito suddenly felt hot, unbearably hot. He prayed for the floorboards to part and swallow him whole. That wasn’t how he wanted to admit his feelings, but he couldn’t take the words back. Even if he apologized, coughed, or otherwise played them off, it was far too late. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his black pants, he tried his best to look nonchalant, but he knew he was blushing. He was embarrassed. As time ticked by, Kakashi remained quiet. Kakashi wasn’t saying the words. God, of course he wasn’t saying the words! Obito cleared his throat, then started backing toward the bedroom doorway. He’d always jumped into things headfirst, so he was used to backpedaling. He grabbed his hitai-ate from the bedside table, positioning it on his forehead and tying it in place, and then he left. He didn’t know where he’d go, but he had to go somewhere. Maybe a bar. Maybe the memorial stone.

“Where are you going?”

“I waited for you to say it back, but you didn’t. I’m not going to wait around all day.”

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m buying,” Kakashi tried, draping an arm over Obito’s shoulders.

Obito glanced over at Kakashi and sighed. He really should have known. Kakashi had already admitted to having trouble with intimacy, and even without the confession, Obito could have cited multiple instances of withdrawal. Obito had initiated the first date, and he’d taken their relationship to the next level -- Obito had introduced sex into their relationship. It was always Obito. When they left the apartment, something happened to Kakashi. He wore many masks, and one always materialized when they were out together. Of their friends, only Gai knew they were together, and that’s because Gai had some kind of radar. Kakashi never confirmed, but he also never denied. There was that much.

As they left the apartment, Kakashi’s arm slipped from his shoulders, and both hands went into pants pockets, completely eliminating all contact. Annoyed, Obito clicked his tongue and looked away. They’d had too many arguments about Kakashi’s behavior, and nothing had changed. Kakashi insisted that he wasn’t ready to go public, simply because he didn’t think his relationship needed aired to the public, while Obito insisted that Kakashi acted as if he were something to be ashamed of, some dirty little secret. Their arguments always ended at an impasse. Obito didn’t want to resume that argument, so he refused to say anything at all, which wasn’t normal for him. Then again, what was _normal_ anyway? If he considered normality, he hadn’t been normal since Kannabi, when he’d nearly lost his life. Unknowingly, he reached up to touch his scars, fingertips tracing over the rough skin there. Kannabi. He just had to think of that mission again.

“Where’s everyone at?” He changed the direction of his thoughts and tried to pick a better subject. He hadn’t seen any of his friends, not since his return from Shimogakure. Beside him, Kakashi seemed lost in thought. “I thought Asuma was supposed to be off too.”

“He received an extension. He’ll be gone until next month,” Kakashi replied, providing no further details. Obito assumed they had no more details then. Only so much information trickled down. Kurenai must have received a letter. Those were few and far between. Obito had received one or two from Kakashi, but the letters had only announced extensions. They couldn’t really trust couriers with any type of sensitive information. A lot of shinobi used summons to transport pertinent intel.

“Let’s eat here. I want okonomiyaki,” Obito announced. He stopped and pointed to a small restaurant on the corner of the street. As if on cue, a few shinobi exited the restaurant and wandered out into the foot traffic. Obito liked okonomiyaki. He liked his with green onion and pork, topped with a fried egg.

“I thought you’d want ramen,” Kakashi teased him, bumping shoulders. Obito scowled and took a couple of steps forward, entering the restaurant before Kakashi. 

“Just shut up and get me my food.”

They sat at the bar in the middle of the restaurant. The chef, a short, pudgy man named Taro, prepared their food at the large teppan, allowing them to see the entire process, from simple ingredients to the finished product. The food smelled fresh and looked delicious, one topped with sauces and the other topped with green onions and a fried egg. With the food prepared, the chef went about cleaning up his mess. Obito picked at his food, eating through each layer of the dish. Beside him, Kakashi devoured one portion at a time, completely unconcerned that others watched him, trying to see beneath his mask. Obito thought it was pretty funny watching them try to get a peek at Kakashi’s face. Kakashi had yet to slip up.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I might get seconds, since you’re paying.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

Obito grinned and went back to eating. He wasn’t hungry enough for seconds, but he considered getting the food just to waste some of Kakashi’s money, just to get back at the man for embarrassing him. Over halfway through his meal, he decided not to be so spiteful. Their lunch date wasn’t bad. The whole process took his mind off the war. Something about the inner workings of the village seemed like a constant. Supply lines were in jeopardy, people were coming back in body scrolls, and time continued on. Nothing stopped Konoha from operating like a machine. Civilians seemed unaware of the danger lurking beyond the boundaries of Konoha, or maybe they were just great actors and actresses. Even though everything remained calm on the surface, Obito saw the fine cracks growing, widening, threatening his home. Some merchants had left, terminating contracts and fleeing. His favorite corner store had reduced hours, because the owner’s daughter, a kunoichi, was no longer around to provide assistance. There were many students graduating early, just more bodies to aid in the war. The jonin assigned to the three-man cells were either injured or retired, some of them highly unqualified, but the best the village could find, given the circumstances. At the end of his thought process, he remembered the scroll at his waist. It had been heavy before, but the weight only increased then.

“Let’s get out of here,” Obito sighed. He took one last bite and pushed the remnants of his lunch away. He’d thought about the war again. Kakashi had already finished his food, so he left his seat without complaint. The man left money for their food, and the two of them left the quaint little restaurant for the dreary day outside. Sometime during their lunch, it had started raining. “Have you thought about what will happen if you don’t come back?”

“Obito,” Kakashi began, ending with a sigh. “No. I haven’t. You’re thinking so hard I can smell something burning.”

“Fuck you, Kakashi!” Obito punched the shoulder closest to him and Kakashi chuckled, despite the fact that the hit must have hurt. When the rain picked up, they ducked beneath an awning. It was a chilly rain, the kind that cut right to his core. He raised his left hand and swiped it across his brow to stop the water droplets from running into his right eye. He didn’t have to worry about his left eye, not with his glass eye. “I want to make you my emergency contact.”

“Hm, and I suppose you want to be my emergency contact as well?”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Obito said, expression blank. He looked out at the rain and watched the passersby hurry along to their destinations. He hoped it would slow down, so he and Kakashi could get back home without getting drenched. He felt an arm settle over his shoulders and he looked over at Kakashi.

“You’ll be fine, Obito. This isn’t Kannabi,” Kakashi softly spoke. Obito hesitated, but he nodded. It wasn’t the Kannabi mission all over again. He wasn’t crushed beneath the rocks. And yet, a little voice told him that any mission could turn into that mission, any mission could kill him, could kill Kakashi, could kill someone else that they knew. “It’s not Kannabi,” Kakashi repeated.

Kakashi knew about the flashbacks and the nightmares and the mounting anxiety; Kakashi knew about the crippling depression. Kakashi knew every bit of darkness trapped inside Obito’s heart, so it was a wonder why the man stayed. Obito shouldn’t have thought about Rin, but he did. He thought about the last time he’d seen her. He thought about the last time he’d held her. They’d both failed her. He had been in love with her, and she had been in love with Kakashi. They’d gotten nowhere. Things could have been very different. He might have lost Kakashi at Kannabi. It should have been Kakashi pinned beneath those rocks. But Obito couldn’t let that happen. Maybe he’d loved Kakashi then too.


	2. 12 Hours to Departure

He’d overcooked the tonkatsu. The pork was dry and tough, tasting of the seasoned breadcrumbs and the vegetable oil he’d used to pan-fry the food. He’d never been a good cook, undercooking or overcooking, until Kakashi eventually stepped in to save the day. That time, Kakashi had let him go. Why the man allowed Obito to prepare their dinner was beyond him. If Kakashi disliked the meal, he kept it to himself, so Obito suffered quietly. The only portion of their meal that tasted any good was the rice. He’d added a little butter to his own, something he’d preferred since he was a small child, while Kakashi insisted on plain rice. Obito even thought the shredded cabbage tasted a little bland. He stopped eating before he’d even finished the food on his plate and in his small bowl, but Kakashi continued on, taking nice-sized bites.

“It’s not very good, is it?”

“It’s not undercooked.”

“Because it’s overcooked.”

Kakashi chuckled, which made Obito chuckle, and then they were both laughing, quietly, comfortably. When Kakashi had finished his food, Obito collected the dirty dishes from the table and walked them over to the sink. It was the routine. Obito had cooked, so Kakashi had to wash the dishes, and after Kakashi washed and rinsed the dishes, Obito dried them. They worked well together. Maintaining the routine had been difficult, at first. They’d been passive aggressive, leaving dishes in the sink, next to the sink, atop the kitchen table, until one of them eventually broke down and washed the dishes; generally, Kakashi ended up washing them, since Obito really didn’t mind “living in filth.” Those arguments had been fun.

“I’ll teach you how to make it properly.”

Kakashi had offered countless times, but their cooking lessons always ended in undressing and rough sex. There was something about the escalation of their arguments which summoned those kinds of scenarios. Obito just wasn’t one to focus on recipes and cooking times, not when Kakashi distracted him. Kakashi was handsome, downright gorgeous, even with the scar over his eye, so Obito liked to appreciate his lover’s looks whenever possible. Like right then. He admired the soft skin exposed on Kakashi’s forearms, from where the man had pushed up the sleeves of his black shirt to spare them from the hot, soapy dishwater. Obito remembered the shower they’d shared, how Kakashi had refused sex. What a waste of a good body. Shoving those thoughts aside, Obito collected a clean dish towel, and then the two of them started washing and drying the evening’s dirty dishes. The air smelled fruity, like freshly picked apples. Kakashi must have bought new dish soap.

“What are the odds that this can end in sex?”

“Really?” Kakashi glanced in his direction, then hummed in thought. There was a long pause, punctuated by the sound of the dishes tapping against one another. Obito thought about asking again, maybe adding in a few compliments, but Kakashi stopped rubbing the dishrag against one of the plates and glanced in Obito’s direction. “Hm, pretty good odds.”

“Yes!” Obito cheered, swinging his towel around once. Kakashi laughed at him, but Obito didn’t care. When most of the dishes were done, Obito nudged his left foot against Kakashi’s right, bare toes meeting bare toes. As usual, Kakashi ignored him. Kakashi already had a mission in mind, which involved finishing the dishes. “Let’s leave the rest. I want you.”

“I’m almost finished,” Kakashi explained, not ceasing his movements. Obito reached over, snagged at the zipper on Kakashi’s jonin vest, and began unzipping. When the entire vest was open, his black shirt fully exposed, Obito slipped a hand under the bottom of the shirt and rubbed at Kakashi’s abdomen, fingers exploring the tone flesh. “You’re unbelievable,” Kakashi sighed.

“I’m enthusiastic when I’m in the mood. We both know it, so don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m a little disappointed that you couldn’t wait five more minutes for me to finish these dishes.”

Kakashi emptied the water from the sink, then washed and rinsed his hands. Obito handed him the damp dish towel and Kakashi wiped his hands off on it. There were pots and pans left, but those could wait. Kakashi didn’t like leaving them, didn’t like quitting in the middle of the job, but Obito had already tugged off the green vest and began working on his own shirt. Apparently, they were undressing in the kitchen. Kakashi helped Obito with his shirt and then shed his own. Before Obito could reach for Kakashi’s pants, a hand grabbed his and he was tugged toward their bedroom, Kakashi leading the way. He drank in the sight of Kakashi’s exposed chest and back, eyes moving from one tiny scar to the next. His favorite was the one near Kakashi’s liver. He’d almost lost it during that mission. It happened a month and a half ago. Kakashi told him that the medic arrived quickly and saved his life, but the incident could have ended differently. If the hit had been on target, what would have happened? Obito didn’t want to think about that, not when Kakashi had begun removing Obito’s pants. 

Their sex life was active, sometimes overactive, since it was the best way of connecting the two of them. Sometimes, they went weeks without seeing one another. Sometimes, it was easier to fuck their problems away. At the end of the day, that’s what they had.

“Stop playing around!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kakashi, down on his knees, looked up at Obito, and Obito shivered in anticipation. Obito wasn’t the best at giving head, had never been the greatest at what should have been a simple act, but Kakashi -- well, Kakashi knew exactly what he was doing. When Kakashi took Obito’s cock in his hand, Obito resisted the urge to move, despite the fact that his entire body wanted him to drive his hips forward. Kakashi gave a light squeeze, then licked the underside of Obito’s cock, one slow, torturous motion. The wet heat had Obito groaning. He knew Kakashi was a tease, but he thought they’d skip right to the good part, namely when Kakashi got him on all fours. Yes, that was a good image. One more lick, more generous than the last, and Obito moved his hips forward, the head of his cock sliding easily into Kakashi’s mouth. He earned a glare for it, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care.

“Come on, Kakashi,” Obito whined. How he hated whining. For some reason, Kakashi enjoyed it all the more. Kakashi stopped, withdrawing, and Obito let out a frustrated growl. “I’m not begging. You know I hate begging!”

“Maa, then we can play cards.” Kakashi moved to stand up and Obito placed both hands on the man’s shoulders, keeping him in place. Kakashi reached out once more, grasped the base of Obito’s cock and took Obito’s length into his mouth. 

“Please,” Obito begged, eyes tightly shut. He hated begging, but if begging got him what he wanted, then he could suck it up, just once more. He fisted Kakashi’s hair and bucked his hips, so Kakashi took an almost painful hold on his left hip, stopping the movements. “Faster.” And Kakashi moved faster. Kakashi’s tongue swirled over the tip of Obito’s cock and Obito hissed. He had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning. Their upstairs neighbors had given them the stink eye one too many times. They were already incredibly suspicious. 

When Obito came, he moaned Kakashi’s name. Fingers buried in Kakashi’s hair, tugging painfully at the man’s scalp, Obito held Kakashi on the floor, forcing him to remain on his knees until Obito regained control of his limbs. Kakashi lightly squeezed Obito’s left hip and Obito finally released his hold on Kakashi’s hair, his heavy hand falling to his side.

“Just give me a minute. I’ll return the favor,” Obito mumbled. Kakashi stood and Obito leaned against him, their naked bodies pressed against each other. Kakashi’s erection prodded him, evidence that he, too, needed relief. Kakashi pressed his lips to the corner of Obito’s mouth, then kissed along Obito’s jaw. Obito reached between them and grabbed Kakashi’s cock. He gave a few tugs, thumb swiping over the end to smear the little bit of precum. “Do you want me?”

“What a stupid question,” Kakashi sighed, a small smile on his face. Obito grinned back and the two of them moved toward the bed. Just as Obito opened the bedside table’s drawer to grab the lube, someone knocked on the front door. The two looked at one another, for a fraction of a second, and then Obito shook his head. No, they weren’t answering the door. No, it wasn’t important. 

“Hatake Kakashi.” Someone called Kakashi’s name, and then proceeded to knock in what seemed like a code. Kakashi sighed again and reached over to grab his pants from the edge of the bed. Obito put his hand on Kakashi’s chest, grabbed the pants, and slipped them on. On his way out of the bedroom, he held up one finger. It wouldn’t take long for Obito to get rid of the pest.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but,” Obito began, quickly closing his mouth. He’d only opened the door a little bit, but he didn’t need to open it any farther. He saw the ANBU mask and a very familiar scroll. Kakashi was being summoned. “Can I give him the scroll?”

“Fifteen minutes,” the masked man said, leaving the scroll with Obito. 

Obito stood there and watched the man disappear. The neighbor across the hall had gone to collect her mail, and she frowned at Obito’s state. Messy hair. Shirtless. Pants barely on. Obito scowled at her and slammed the front door. Kakashi was where Obito left him. His erection was almost gone, and seeing the scroll in Obito’s hand only aided in murdering the mood. Obito sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand gripping the scroll and the other hand gripping the dark-green sheets. Kakashi stared at the scroll, but he didn’t reach out to slip it from Obito’s hand. They both knew the scroll was about another mission. Obito didn’t know why seeing it hurt so much. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to worry about Kakashi too. He didn’t want to know when and where the mission took place, didn’t want to know how long the journey would take. He didn’t want to think about Kakashi, when he had to think about his own safety. He wanted Kakashi to stay in the village and enjoy the rest of the month. When Kakashi finally took the scroll, he sat beside Obito, on the edge of the bed. 

“When do you leave?”

“Oh-eight-hundred.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Hm, I’ll find out during the mission briefing.”

Obito didn’t need to go with Kakashi, but he did. While Kakashi went in for his mission brief, Obito had his personnel file pulled and updated his emergency contacts to include Kakashi. His grandmother had passed away years ago, so he had her name removed. When Kakashi returned from his mission brief, he updated his emergency contacts as well. 

“Is it classified?”

“You know most of my missions are.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Obito frowned, dejected. 

They walked along, side-by-side, as the evening lights flickered to life. They passed beneath lights strung above doorways, above storefronts, above the streets themselves. At night, the village always looked like it was one step away from a festival. Red, green, and yellow lights overhead lit up Kakashi’s face in varying shades of color. Obito thought he spotted Kurenai, but he didn’t want to shout her name. They were too far away. Beside him, Kakashi pulled out a familiar orange book, as if they hadn’t just received some of the worst news imaginable. Obito leaned over and made a move to grab the book, but Kakashi swatted his hand away. With a huff, Obito glared off to the side. He’d almost forgotten that Kakashi preferred to hide behind the book, in more ways than one. Obito couldn’t hide, but he wanted to. Everywhere he went, people stared at him and whispered about him. For the civilians, it was all about his scars and his eye; for the shinobi, it was about his Madara conspiracy theories. The village had yet to receive any proof of the existence of the decrepit old man who had saved Obito’s life. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d simply imagined the seven months he’d been gone, imagined a savior where none had existed. He remembered praying, praying for salvation, praying for the weight of the cave-in to finally kill him. It had been dark and scary, lonely and overwhelming. And when he had nightmares about that time, he still had no idea what to do. He was just as helpless, just as trapped. He couldn’t sleep without the bathroom light on, and small spaces, even crowded places, made him feel claustrophobic. Kakashi promised him that they weren’t at Kannabi anymore, but it felt like maybe they’d never left at all.

“Are you okay?”

Kakashi had lowered his book to look over at him. He felt the knot forming in his stomach, he felt the heat in his cheeks, he felt thousands of ants crawling over him. All of them were signs of his anxiety, and he didn’t want to have a panic attack in the middle of the street. He raised his right hand to massage his temple, staving off an impending headache. Kakashi handed him the orange book and he looked at it in confusion. He didn’t want to read _Icha Icha_. When he didn’t open the book, Kakashi flipped it open and handed it back. Kakashi positioned the book in front of Obito’s face. Gone were the people staring at him. Gone were the loud conversations of strangers. No one could touch him. No one could see him. Not anymore.

“Why do you think I read it in public?”

“You have no shame?”

“That too.” Kakashi reached over and ruffled Obito’s hair. Obito thought about hitting Kakashi in the head with the book, but he decided not to. The mask hid a smile from him, and he knew. He knew he shouldn’t, not with Kakashi’s opinion on public displays of affection, but he really didn’t care. He wrapped an arm around Kakashi’s waist and leaned in to kiss the man’s cheek. He didn’t even care that the mask was in the way.

“Kakashi?” Kurenai looked more than a little surprised to see the exchange, while Kakashi just looked awkward. He eventually waved, but Kurenai had already turned her attention to Obito. Obito handled it much better than Kakashi, at least. “Obito?”

“Hey, Kurenai,” Obito began, scrambling for an explanation.

“We’re dating,” Kakashi interrupted, his eyes closed for a smile.

“Yes, we’re dating -- wait, what?” Obito turned to look at Kakashi, eyes wide. Well, that worked too. Obito turned back to Kurenai and gave her a thumbs up. “Six months.”

“Oh. Well, congratulations. I had no idea,” Kurenai quickly responded. “Asuma and I just hit three months about a week ago.”

The three of them talked for a few more minutes, and then they parted. Kurenai had only ventured out for ingredients for curry, and Kakashi had already started steering Obito back toward the apartment, their safe haven. Kurenai hadn’t heard anything more from Asuma, which was both good and bad: It was good that she hadn’t heard any bad news, but it was bad that she hadn’t heard from him at all. Obito already told himself he’d write as much as possible. He was more of a writer than Kakashi. Kakashi wasn’t one to keep checking in. 

“Let’s get a beer or two.” 

“We both leave early. Do you really think that’s a good idea, Obito?”

“Yes. We need to celebrate. You just came out.”

“I only told one person. It’s not a big deal.”

Obito closed the orange book and tucked it back into Kakashi’s jonin vest, then he took one of Kakashi’s hands in his own and tugged. He led them through the throngs of people to his favorite yokocho, known as Sasayaki, for the spies that had once operated there. The alleyway was crammed with tiny bars and restaurants, though there were specialty shops there as well, such as a shop dedicated to nothing but health foods. His favorite bar had no name, and it only seated six; in fact, it was more like a stall than a bar. Obito claimed two seats at the bar, one for himself and one for Kakashi, and he opened a tab with the owner, Hajime. There was a cover charge, but Hajime generally waved it for him. That night, Hajime did.


	3. 1 Hour to Departure

He felt arms tighten around him, and he was pulled back against Kakashi’s chest. It was early, too early to be awake, but then he only had an hour to leave. He double-checked the clock and then relaxed back into Kakashi’s arms. Yes, he had an hour to leave. Kakashi didn’t have to be awake for another three hours, so he tried his best to slip away without waking the man, but that didn’t happen. Kakashi was a light sleeper, had been for as long as Obito could remember, so when Obito tried to move Kakashi’s right arm from over his stomach, Kakashi swatted at him and held on even tighter. Obito couldn’t turn around and see Kakashi’s face, but he knew the man was awake. Obito stayed there for another ten minutes, rubbing little circles on Kakashi’s forearm, lacing their fingers together. He’d never been very good at goodbyes, so he wasn’t looking forward to the moment when they would part. He wouldn’t cry, at least. He’d done that before. It had been embarrassing, and Kakashi had teased him mercilessly for weeks. He’d been ten, and it was a long mission!

“You better get up,” Kakashi said, a yawn punctuating the end of the sentence. The arms moved from around Obito and he flipped the covers off his body. The bed was pressed against the wall, so he prepared to crawl down to the bottom of the bed, but Kakashi snatched him up again and rolled over. Obito was a mess of flailing limbs, but he came out on the other side of the bed intact. Again, he waited, but he knew he needed to get up. He needed a shower, and he needed one last meal before everything went to shit. Kakashi nudged a kiss to the side of Obito’s neck, and then released Obito to go about his morning routine.

“You don’t have to get up yet. Go back to sleep,” Obito whispered. He got out of bed and went over to the closet to grab clean clothes. Kakashi lay there and watched him move around the room, carrying clothes and weapons from one side of the room to the other. 

“I’ll make you some breakfast. What do you want? We have some leftover cabbage and pickled eggs,” Kakashi offered, another yawn following. Obito assumed Kakashi hadn’t slept well, if the man’s sluggish behavior was any sign at all. Obito finished grabbing his clothes and weapons, but he couldn’t make up his mind. “Take a shower. I’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, but you really should get some more sleep. You don’t have to be up this early,” Obito insisted.

“I’ll grab another hour of sleep after you leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

The hot shower soothed Obito’s nerves. He could have stayed in longer, lost under the stream of warm water and layers of steam, but he’d already spent too much time in bed. As it was, he was going to be late, and it was his mission. Then again, he’d always been known for being tardy -- he even had Kakashi showing up late. As for his mission, he was leading a team back toward Shimogakure. Apparently, Iwagakure and Kirigakure shinobi had been sighted in the area, and there were concerns about an increasing number of foreign hostiles. If the nations worked together, like the Sandaime Hokage feared, then the war would last even longer. Yesterday, at the tower, there had been rumors about an end being near, but that would go up in smoke.

After his shower, he dressed and strapped on his pouches. The finishing touch, one of Kakashi’s tanto, waited by the front door, something he’d add on just before leaving. They’d had a rule that tanto weren’t worn in the apartment, since Obito had almost put out his good eye with one. It was an accident!

“Rice, miso soup, halibut, shredded cabbage, a pickled egg,” Kakashi began listing off, motioning to the variety of dishes atop the kitchen table. He stood there in his white t-shirt and boxers, quite proud of the variety of food, and Obito couldn’t blame him. Obito’s stomach let out a loud growl and they both sat down at the table to feast like kings. “How does it taste?”

“What did you do with this fish? It tastes great!”

“Salt, pepper, onion, garlic, lemon,” Kakashi replied, holding up a finger for each ingredient he named. “I know how you like it.”

“You like yours with pepper and lemon, right?” Obito talked with his mouth full and Kakashi gave him what Obito called the _dead eye_. He stared right into Obito’s soul, whenever that face made an appearance. Kakashi said he’d learned it from someone, but he refused to give a name. Obito assumed it was someone Kakashi knew from ANBU. “Geesh, don’t answer then. See if I care.”

After breakfast, while Obito washed and rinsed the dishes, he thought about his mission and the three new chunin he’d escort across the boundaries of two small nations. Shimogakure wasn’t a place for rookies. It was a mess. The fighting there knew no end. It was a proverbial island, when it came to defenses. Konoha shinobi were often surrounded on all sides, since the Land of Frost had been overrun last year. 

“Can you at least tell me if you’re going to the northeastern front?” Obito rinsed a bowl out and handed the clean dish to Kakashi, where the man dried the inside and outside. 

“Would that make you happy?” Kakashi didn’t move to put the dried dish away. He waited for Obito to say something.

“Yes, it would make me very happy.”

“Then yes, I’m going to the northeastern front. No more questions.”

Kakashi leaned in a kissed Obito’s cheek, then went back to drying dishes. By the time they were finished, the kitchen looked as good as new. Obito had just enough time to get to the meeting point, but he chose to linger. He wrapped his arms around Kakashi and breathed in the man’s scent. Sandalwood. Kakashi smelled like his soap, something so simple to remind Obito of home. Ten weeks would come and go, and then Obito would be home again, home to smell the sandalwood. Kakashi ran his fingers through Obito’s hair and left his hand there. Obito hated when Kakashi pointed out the height difference, despite the fact that they were only a couple of inches off. Saying goodbye was a lot harder than Obito thought.

“I’ll see you in ten weeks.” Kakashi said the words, but he didn’t move. Neither of them moved. “Obito, you’re going to be late.”

“Let them wait.”


End file.
